Chapter 32
Mira's breath hitched violently.
She had seen many things in her past life—brutal murders, silent assassinations, rooms bathed in blood and corpses—but nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever left her this horrified.
Right before her eyes, Athasia sat on Zamiel's lap, trembling.
But not in fear.
Not in pain.
It was something else.
Something far worse.
Her glowing green eyes were hazy, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted as if she was still trying to catch her breath.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her fingers twitching involuntarily, like the aftershocks of something overwhelming.
And then—
Mira's entire soul left her body.
Athasia's thighs twitched.
Her legs pressed together.
"…Oh my fucking God."
Mira's hands trembled. She knew this reaction.
This was not the look of someone who had just been bitten.
This was the look of someone who had just—NOPE.
NOPE.
NOPE.
ABSOLUTELY NOT.
She was going to stab this bastard.
With zero hesitation, Mira yanked a dagger from her pocket, her movements sharp, instinctual, filled with the rage of a best friend witnessing the unspeakable.
Her voice was deadly, seething.
"YOU FUCKING DEMON, I'M GOING TO—"
She lunged.
Her blade sliced through the air, aiming directly for Zamiel's throat.
But then—
She froze.
Something flashed on Athasia's skin.
Mira's eyes widened, her heartbeat stuttering.
What. The. Hell.
Right there, on Athasia's neck—
Where Zamiel had sunk his fangs into her flesh—
Was a rose.
A deep crimson rose, beautifully etched onto her pale skin, the petals blooming as if alive, glowing with an eerie, dangerous light.
Mira's grip on the dagger tightened.
That mark—
That wasn't there before.
Her mind raced.
What the hell had he done to her?!
She turned her burning gaze to Zamiel, ready to tear him apart.
But that bastard?
That goddamn bastard just smirked.
His gray eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the tip of his tongue flicking out to lick the last drop of Athasia's blood from his lips.
Then, he tilted his head, eyes dropping to the glowing mark on Athasia's neck.
His smirk widened.
"Too late," he murmured, voice rich with amusement.
He dragged a slow, possessive finger along the rose on Athasia's skin, watching as the glow flickered at his touch.
Then, his eyes met Mira's.
Dark. Icy. Unyielding.
"She's already mine."